The storm did not break immediately.
It gathered.
Dark clouds thickened above the Stronghold, rolling in slow, deliberate spirals, as though the sky itself were deciding whether to intervene. The wind shifted directions too often, carrying the mixed scents of ash, iron, and something older ozone threaded with the faint bitterness of magic strained too thin.
Aurelia stood at the edge of the ridge long after the assembled forces below began to reorganize. No one advanced. No one retreated. The world existed in a tense pause, waiting for the next wrong move.
Kane stayed close, his presence a steady weight at her side.
“They’re not leaving,” he said quietly.
“No,” Aurelia agreed. “They’re measuring.”
Below them, delegations separated into distinct formations. Moonborn clustered around l
